Chapter Text
“AH-CHOO!”
Yato sighed, the anxiety within it disguised only in part by somewhat genuine exasperation. That was the tenth sneeze from Yukine he’d heard in half as many minutes.
“You good, kid?” Yato said, setting his book down.
Yukine looked up, loudly blowing his nose— gross, Yato could tell even from where he was sitting on the opposite side of the kotatsu how much snot was on that tissue— and said, “What do you mean? I’m fine.”
Yato snorted. “Wow, you really believe that, don’t you? Do you have to be so stubborn?”
The kid was clearly deluding himself. If it’d been a lie, Yato would’ve gotten stung for sure; Yukine had looked and sounded absolutely awful the whole day, and the sky outside was steadily darkening. Stuffy nose, constant sneezing and coughing fits— he was fighting off one seriously nasty cold, all right.
Yukine had always been a sickly child when he was alive, due likely in part to lack of proper nutrition and the constant stress of living with his father; but the kid had also been born with an unusually weak immune system. This had unfortunately carried over into his next life.
However, in the few months since Yato named him, Yukine had only ever come down with relatively minor afflictions. A sore throat here, a headache and runny nose there— all these symptoms were enough to make Yukine much grumpier and brattier than usual, but Yato could tell this was worse than anything else his hafuri had dealt with yet.
Yato reached over and attempted to feel the kid’s forehead, but Yukine dodged his hand and glared at him, face pink. “What the hell are you doing?”
Yato resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m checking your temperature.”
Yukine tried to scoff, but it turned into a coughing fit instead. Yato waited him out, chin propped in his hand as he watched the kid hack his lungs out. It sounded painful.
“You done pretending now?” Yato said casually, though his fingers twitched with the need for action. He didn’t like the sound of those coughs. “You’ve been like this all day, Yukine. You’re sick. You need medicine.
“What you don’t need—” Yato continued, ignoring Yukine’s indignant squawk as he reached over and snatched the workbook lying open on the table, which was still on the same page Yukine had turned it to an hour and a half ago. “— Is to be turning your brain to mush with all these math problems! Seriously, kid, Hiyori will forgive you if you don’t finish by tomorrow. Hell, if she were here, she’d probably beat me up for letting you out of bed this morning in the first place!”
Yato shuddered at the mental image of a pissed off Hiyori chewing him out. Lucky for him, she was visiting her grandmother today and hadn’t had a chance to see Yukine like this.
Yukine continued to glare at him, red-faced, for another moment, before his face suddenly scrunched up.
He sneezed six times in a row. After the seventh, Yukine threw his hands up in exasperation. “Whatever, fine! Do what you want.”
It was harder to resist rolling his eyes this time, but Yato managed, just barely. Teenagers.
Yato reached across the table and felt the child’s forehead, pretending not to notice the way Yukine leaned into the touch. Yato frowned. “Yeah, you’ve definitely got a fever.”
Yukine’s wide eyes followed him as he got up and strode over to the medicine cabinet.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Yato said as he searched; cold medicine, cold medicine, where was the cold medicine… “Have you heard yourself when you talk? You sound like you smoke ten packs a day.”
Yato’s head turned briefly when Yukine groaned. “Why do I still have to deal with this stuff, anyway?! I’m dead!” He crossed his arms and puffed out his cheeks, pouting adorably. “It’s not fair…”
Yukine’s typical defiant tone had a distinctly whiny ring to it, and Yato smirked fondly. “Sorry, kid. Them’s the breaks. You may be dead, but you’re still human.”
There was a brief lull in conversation as Yato ruined Daikoku’s careful organization with his thorough search. Crap, I hope we didn’t run out…
However, to Yato’s dismay, it seemed they were indeed fresh out of the medicine they needed. There was some pain relief/fever reducer, which was useful, but they needed something that would alleviate the kid’s cold symptoms. Yato remembered Yukine had finished off a bottle just a few weeks ago, but he’d held out hope that there was another hiding somewhere.
Yato turned and clapped his hands together, feeling a bit guilty when Yukine winced at the sudden noise. Whoops. Kid probably had a headache. “Welp, bad news, kid; we’re fresh out of the good stuff. Just take this for now.” Yato plucked the pain reliever off the counter and tossed it to Yukine, but Yukine’s reflexes weren’t what they usually were— it clattered to the floor and rolled to a stop by his foot. However, all Yukine did was spare it a brief glance before turning a wide-eyed gaze back to his god.
Yato continued, “Anyway, looks like I’m headed to the pharmacy! You just sit tight and I’ll be back soon, ‘kay?”
Yato was halfway to the door when he felt a sudden, startlingly sharp pang of anxiety at the same time as Yukine exclaimed, “W-wait!” The sheer alarm in his tone was easily perceptible despite its rasp.
Yato had stopped and winced the second he felt the child’s sudden and confusing burst of emotion. He hastily turned to face him, eyes frantically scanning Yukine’s person for injury as he rubbed at his chest. “What? What is it? What happened?!”
Yukine’s eyes flicked down to the hand on Yato’s chest, and he flushed a deep red. Yato wondered if the kid would ever get used to the idea that he wasn’t the only one experiencing his emotions.
“Nothing,” Yukine said; he’d clearly intended a harsher tone, but it came out as a weak mumble instead. “Just l-leave already.”
Yato’s brows furrowed at the way Yukine’s anxiety only worsened as he spoke. “Ooookay, if you say so.”
He turned and again started for the door. By the time he reached it, Yato’s heart was pounding nearly as fast and hard as it did when Yukine was in a too-dark room.
Okay, Yato had no idea what the hell was going on with his kid, but it clearly had something to do with him leaving. Yukine was probably stubborn enough to let Yato walk right out the door no matter how scared he was, and they’d both suffer for it, so Yato supposed he was going to have to be the one to suggest the obvious solution.
He turned his head to the side so he could just see Yukine behind him in his peripheral. “You wanna come?” he said, his tone deliberately casual.
Yato would honestly rather Yukine stay home; the weather wasn’t much warmer than it was when he named him, and it was getting dark. There was sure to be a biting chill in the air, and Yato didn’t want to risk bringing the kid outside when he should really be resting.
But it couldn’t be helped. Yukine was already getting to his feet with near-frantic speed, and Yato snatched the kid’s coat from its hanger by the door and held it out to him.
Yukine pulled it on and zipped it shut with pale, slightly trembling hands, sluggish but functional. “You’d probably get the wrong thing if I wasn’t there to babysit you, so…” he mumbled unconvincingly.
Yato stared at him, incredulous.
Were all teenagers like this or did he just hit the jackpot for snot-nosed brats with bad attitudes?
Oh, well— if it mattered so much to him, Yato would play along. “I know, right?” he cackled, smacking the kid on the back with gentle enthusiasm. “It’s a good thing I’ve got such a smart and capable hafuri, or I’d be screwed!”
Yukine went pink at the praise— or from fever, it was sort of hard to tell— and Yato couldn’t resist mussing his hair up a little. To his surprise, instead of violently smacking his hand away like usual, Yukine just crossed his arms with a huff. “Let’s just go already, idiot god.”
Yukine went to pass him to get to the door, but Yato shot an arm out, barring him from going any further. “Oh no, you don’t! You’re not going out like that! What are you, crazy?”
The kid looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about? This is what I always wear outside.”
Yato shook his head in exasperation. “Okay, no, first of all, where’s your hat?”
He turned and opened one of the drawers under the coat rack and gathered Yukine’s hat, gloves, and a thick scarf. “Did you forget already? That you’re sick? It’s already bad enough you’re going out at all! We need to keep you as warm as possible.”
Yato straightened and, without a second thought, gently grasped Yukine by the wrists and made quick work of tugging the gloves on. Yukine put up no resistance even as Yato meticulously wrapped the scarf around the child’s neck and stuffed the hat on his head. When he finished, he took a step back and gave Yukine a once-over. He nodded approvingly, but when he made eye contact with the kid, he froze.
Yato wasn’t quite sure how to interpret the emotion on the child’s face even as it bloomed in his own chest. It definitely wasn’t a bad feeling, but he wasn’t sure it could be called a good one, either. All he knew was that the way Yukine was just staring at him, eyes shining with something like awe, but not quite, was freaking Yato out a little. Did he do something weird?
Well, there was nothing for it but to move on. Yato broke the tense yet short-lived eye contact and quickly turned to wrench the door open. The chilly air rushed inside, and Yato gave an involuntary shiver. It was enough to break whatever spell Yukine had been under, because no sooner did the cold seep in that Yato felt the strange emotion all but disappear. It was only through its absence that he realized that, whatever it was, it’d put Yato on edge.
“Let’s go,” Yato said stiffly, and the two left without another word, a slightly awkward air hanging between them.
They were quiet for most of the short walk to the store— well, Yato was quiet. Yukine was a relentlessly snotty mess of loud, nasty-sounding coughs and sneezes, and the poor kid couldn’t go two seconds without sniffling.
Meanwhile, Yato was preoccupied with his own worries: namely, Yukine’s strange behavior just before they left the house and, more importantly, the relatively harsh winds whipping at his face. The weather was even worse than he’d feared it would be, and if Yato was having a hard time coping with it, Yukine was bound to be even worse off.
Yato couldn’t stop glancing over at the kid every few seconds despite the uselessness of the gesture, as if he could somehow keep him warmer with the weight of his gaze. Yukine seemed to be doing okay, though it was hard to tell; in any case, Yato was relieved by his own foresight. They wouldn’t have gotten far without all those extra garments he forced on him.
Finally, they arrived at their destination. What was usually a short, inconsequential journey had felt like an eternity, and Yato released a huge, noisy sigh of relief when they stepped inside the heated building. “Man, did that suck. You okay, Yukine?”
When he looked over at the child in question, Yukine nodded with a loud sniffle, but Yato was slightly dismayed at the sight of him; his entire face was the color of harsh vermillion, especially the areas around his eyes and nose, all of which were running like a leaky faucet. The lack of a proper verbal response to his question didn’t exactly inspire much confidence in the kid’s ability to last much longer, either.
Yato swallowed his concern for now as he slung an arm around the kid’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Yukine probably wouldn’t allow it, but it made Yato feel better to share his body heat a little.
However, to his shock, Yukine didn’t push him away. He simply allowed Yato to steer him to the correct aisle, grab the necessary supplies (he may or may not have gone a little overboard, but he wanted to be prepared, dammit), and even to the register to pay, all without a single word of protest. At one point he even burrowed his cold nose into Yato’s side while his god stood browsing the shelves, which was as strange as it was unbearably cute.
By the time they exited the store, Yato’s concern had risen to nigh-unimaginable heights. How miserable could Yukine be if he was acting this out of character?!
However, Yato couldn’t help but be glad for it. The scant bit of warmth that managed to seep in where they were pressed together made him feel a little less useless, especially as they stepped back out into the frigid dark.
… Well, shit. That wasn’t good.
Indeed, they must have been out longer than Yato had thought they’d be, because the sky was now colored a too-dark, foreboding blue, barely mitigated by the faint glow of the half-moon and stars. Luckily, there were streetlights lining the sidewalk here, but after a couple blocks that would no longer be the case. Maybe Yukine would be too out of it to notice?
Yato paid careful attention to Yukine’s emotional state as they walked, ready to react at the slightest hint of fear. How he should react, Yato wasn’t sure— getting his kid to open up to him at all was like pulling teeth, so he hadn’t exactly had many opportunities to practice comforting him. It sure as hell wasn’t for a lack of trying, but if Yukine wouldn’t let him in, what could he do?
But maybe this time would be different; being so sick had clearly lowered the kid’s inhibitions.
Sure enough, as they turned onto a poorly illuminated neighboring street with little infrastructure, the reassuring glow of the streetlights behind them, Yukine came to a complete stop. The child’s hand shot up to clutch at the back of Yato’s jersey as his heart began to throb erratically, a breathless whimper escaping him.
“Yukine,” Yato said through gritted teeth, the terror flooding his chest making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. His arm tightened around Yukine’s shoulders; the child had buried his face so far into Yato’s side that he couldn’t see it at all anymore. “It’s okay, buddy, we’re almost home.”
Yukine likely would’ve been able to make it home okay any other day, but not today. The misery and vulnerability caused by his illness was amping his fear so high that the kid was paralyzed with it. What should he do?
Yato wished Kofuku was home so he could call her and simply teleport there, but she and Daikoku were out. He and Yukine were on their own for tonight.
Yukine’s body still refused to move no matter how hard Yato tried to prompt him forward, and he had begun trembling violently. Yato couldn’t stop himself from pulling him in for a brief hug, shifting so that he could wrap both arms around the child. He held Yukine’s head close to his chest, his face buried there in such a way that he could no longer see their surroundings. “Shhh, Yukine, it’s gonna be okay,” he spoke soothingly, rubbing his back in slow circles.
The kid would definitely be embarrassed about this later, but for now, his dignity as a teenage boy was clearly not a concern. The child clung to him like Yato was the only thing keeping him sane, and Yato supposed that probably wasn’t altogether inaccurate. He didn’t even want to think about Yukine out here all alone in this state.
But they couldn’t stay like this. They’d only been standing there for half a minute and Yato was getting downright paranoid about the effect this weather would have on Yukine’s recovery.
Then, an idea struck him. He gently extricated Yukine from his person (which was harder than it sounded, as the kid had a surprisingly strong grip on him), crouched down so his back was facing him, and said, “Climb on, I’m carrying you the rest of the way.”
A few moments passed where nothing happened as Yukine processed his words and hesitated. Yato sighed, exhaustion weighing on him the longer Yukine’s fear refused to relent. He was about to say something else to try and coax Yukine into obedience when he finally felt small, shaky hands grip too hard at his shoulders as the child clambered clumsily onto his back. Yato hardly noticed the slight pain Yukine’s death grip was causing him, reveling as he was in the novelty of his kid actually listening to him without argument for once.
Yato slotted his hands under Yukine’s thighs and stood. Yukine’s arms flew to wrap around the god’s neck instead as Yato rose, and Yato spluttered, not expecting the sudden pressure around his throat. Yukine must’ve been just aware enough to recognize he was choking him, because he immediately loosened his hold a bit. Not by much, but Yato could breathe, and that was enough.
Unsurprisingly, the kid went and hid his face again the instant they set off, this time in the soft material of Yato’s signature scarf. His quaking limbs might as well have been superglued, they were clinging so tightly around Yato. It made Yato’s heart ache with a pain entirely his own.
Yato moved as quickly as possible, and it wasn’t long before he was bursting inside their blissfully warm and, best of all, bright, temporary home.
The tangled knots of Yato’s own anxiety and Yukine’s terror instantly loosened, and he heaved a massive sigh of relief as he all but fell to his knees so that Yukine could climb off.
Yukine did so, though his movements were slow and more than a little stiff. Yato stood and turned to look at him, but Yukine refused to meet his gaze, resolutely staring at the floor as if it’d become extremely interesting in the short time they’d been out— and it wasn’t hard to figure out why.
The kid’s face was so red with heat that he could fry an egg on it, and Yato knew that the fever and harsh weather weren’t the sole culprits. Embarrassment so severe that it may have been more accurate to call it shame was rapidly displacing the fear in Yato’s aching chest, and Yato nearly sighed aloud. He supposed he should have expected this.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to suggest Yukine change into his pajamas before they administer any medicine, the kid beat him to it. “I-I’m gonna go to bed!” He exclaimed, his raspy voice cracking— and with that, he spun around on his heel and practically scrambled up the stairs.
Yato winced, subconsciously rubbing at his chest— troublingly enough, he’d felt a twinge of the kid’s earlier anxiety as soon as Yukine was out of sight, though it wasn’t nearly as bad.
Maybe he just didn’t like being alone when he was sick?
But Yukine had been sick plenty of times before and he was fine by himself… Hell, he would practically bite Yato’s head off whenever he tried to talk to him, so the god usually gave him a wide berth when he wasn’t feeling well.
However, now that he thought about it, Yukine had been sticking pretty close to him today, unusually so. Plus, this was clearly worse than anything Yato had personally seen him come down with so far— maybe the fever had something to do with it.
Regardless, seeing as how Yukine had so far given him plenty of reason to believe that he might actually welcome Yato’s presence this time, Yato supposed it’d be a good idea to follow him.
After grabbing a glass of water, the thermometer, and the pain reliever Yukine had neglected to take earlier, he headed up the stairs.
Except when Yato approached Yukine where he already lay in his futon, the blanket hiding his face, Yukine weakly snapped, “What do you want? Go away.”
Despite his contradictory words, Yato felt Yukine’s heart rate calm with the knowledge of his presence.
Okay, now Yato was confused and annoyed. Why did children make no sense?
“You haven’t even taken your medicine yet,” he huffed, shaking the bag in his hand so the pills inside rattled for emphasis. “And I still need to take your temperature.”
Yukine whipped the blanket off his face and pinned him with a fiery glare. He looked about as intimidating as a feral kitten. “I can do that stuff myself! I’m not a little kid!”
“Nobody said you were,” Yato said, setting the bag, the water, and thermometer down by the futon. “Look, just let me—“
“No! I don’t want you or your help, okay? Just leave me alone!”
Damn. That kinda stung. Yato closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself how stupid it was to take offense to anything the kid said when he was in this sort of mood. He was well-aware of Yukine’s tendency to lash out and say things he didn’t mean when he was embarrassed— plus, he didn’t feel good. That was a volatile combination, to say the least.
When Yato opened his eyes, he was calm. He gave an exaggerated huff and turned away. “Fine, be that way! But I’m going to bed, too, so if you want me to leave that’s just too bad!”
Yukine’s instant relief at his words might have annoyed Yato even more— the kid was being so contradictory it was making his head spin— but instead, it made him happy to know that he made Yukine feel safe, at least, if nothing else. Even though Yato still didn’t quite understand what the kid was so afraid of.
After a brief check behind him to ensure that Yukine had already switched on his desk lamp, Yato turned off the light then climbed into his own futon. He knew that the kid could see what he was doing well enough with the scant light provided by the lamp.
When Yato lay down, the exhaustion wrought from an entire day of worrying about Yukine and their eventful trip to the store finally hit him. It wouldn’t take him long at all to fall asleep.
However, just as he was about to sink into unconsciousness, he distantly heard Yukine say something. “Wha’?” Yato said drowsily, eyes still closed but listening intently.
“… I… I said… ‘Thanks.’” Yukine muttered just loud enough for Yato to hear, his voice strained with what was almost certainly a Herculean effort to repeat the word.
Yato smiled fondly. His chest was tight with not only Yukine’s embarrassment, but something else. It was genuine and shy, a happier echo of that strange emotion that had so unsettled Yato earlier. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Just doing my job. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Yukine’s strange emotion spread, its comforting warmth unfurling inside of him. Then, there was a silence long enough for Yato’s mind to haze over. As he began to allow himself to drift, he heard a soft, nearly inaudible, “Okay.”